


Hiraeth

by Clariana13



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Additional Elvhen characters, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fall of Arlathan, In the Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-21 05:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3680355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clariana13/pseuds/Clariana13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiraeth, pronounced [hɨraɪ̯θ], is a Welsh word that literally translates into English as 'longing', though in Welsh the concept of yearning for a place removed in space or time is far more powerful and evocative than in English. It has been defined as homesickness tinged with grief or sadness over the lost or departed. It is a mix of longing, yearning, nostalgia, wistfulness, or an earnest desire for a place lost in the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The awkward stage

“Solas…” There was a very long pause, something in his gut told him that what she was about to say would not be good news, “What do you think of our relationship?” Ellana ventured finally.

He was laying on a bearskin rug in her room in Skyhold recovering from their last and rather energetic bout of physical lovemaking. For all his passion, his body did not seem to have the endurance that it once had, _welcome to middle age_ , _Fen,_ he thought ruefully.

It seemed that their relationship had reached _that_ stage, the awkward stage. Why, he recalled that just last week she had asked him what her body looked like in her latest pair of leggings, fortunately he had managed to dodge the question with a reply that was tactful flattering and sincere all at the same time, but tonight, not only did he feel spent, he felt entirely out of inspiration.

“It is good.” He muttered.

“Just good?” She asked sitting up. “Is that all?”

He pursed his lips. “Very good. Extremely good. Marvellous. Outstanding... _Exhausting_ …” He added hoping she would take the hint.

He saw her grimace in the firelight, “I’m not been very fair am I?”

“Probably not.” He agreed.

“I think we’d better go to bed.” She concluded. One of the things he liked about her was that she always took a practical approach to life.

“That might be a good idea.”

But even as she lay in his arms he could feel her fretting, tossing and turning, something was troubling his Ellana and like a horse with the bit between its teeth she just didn’t seem to be able to let go of it. He hoped against hope that it wasn’t settling down or having children, he could give her a castle, he’d actually given her a castle, _this_ castle, in fact… but he could not give her those other things…

They had been together now for almost a year. What they had between them in the here and now was so _good_ , yes that word again (what other word would he use?), that he was genuinely fearful of anything coming along and spoiling it. Grim and fatalistic as he was, her words (oh, she knew him very well!), he was fairly certain that sooner or later that was exactly what would happen. He had rather hoped later.

In the end, he knew, it had to be confronted. So lying back on the pillow watching the last light of the last embers dying on the ceiling high above them, his arms around her, he said, heart heavy: “Tell me.”

Ellana nuzzled against his chest, her nose was cold. “Do you really want to know?”

“Probably not.” He said to her for the second time that evening, “But I think you need to tell me anyway.” Any other woman would have lambasted him for that, but another thing about their relationship is that they seem to have reached a very solid bedrock of sincerity, so Ellana merely sniffed in acknowledgement.

She sighed, “I don’t know exactly what to say… I mean it is probably not even your fault, but…” And she trailed off, and then she rallied, “I mean, Solas, the other day you even passed my finger up the arse test… No elf or man I have ever lain with has passed that test…”

Even in the dark she must have somehow picked up his puzzled expression, because she jostled against him in annoyance, “but I _enjoyed_ that…” He said defensively.

“Precisely!” She said, “ _That_ is the issue here, you seem to enjoy everything I do…”

“But I _do_ enjoy…”

“That is what worries me… There doesn’t seem to be anything special about me, you have no particular dislike of anything I do in bed but at the same time, nothing I do seems to cause you particular pleasure…”

“That is not… You satisfy all my primal urges, and you have no idea… ”

“Shhhhhsh!” She warned and he realised he had raised his voice. Something he rarely did, especially with Ellana. “Don’t interrupt.” She said in a whisper “I don’t know whether I am explaining myself properly… And anyway why do you talk about yourself like that?”

And this was one of the few things that annoyed him about her, she had the accursed habit of jumping from one subject to another with no warning, it often took him unawares, perhaps _that_ was what he actually disliked about it… “How do I talk about myself?” He asked.

“‘All my primal urges’ as if you will weren’t talking _for_ yourself but _about_ yourself, as if you were standing outside of yourself looking in…”

“I am attempting to understand, Ellana, I see that I may have displeased you in some way, but what I’m telling you is true… I _do_ like everything you do… _we_ do in bed,” he corrected himself, it seems particularly important to be precise, “I revel in it, and it gives me satisfaction, rare joy… If the issue is that you wish me to take more of the initiative, then I will do so…”

She sighed, “We’ve _tried_ that… And the first thing you do is ask me what _I_ want to do…”

“How…” He realised that that particular line of communication would not be productive tonight. “But that is because what gives you most pleasure gives me most pleasure, _Vehnan_ , can you not see that? There is always a part of me that enjoys anything you propose… Perhaps it is because I am a complicated person, a sophisticated person, a person who appreciates…”

“No,” she said, as she straddled him, placing her knees either side of his waist leaning on his chest and looking down at him, eye-to-eye. “I think you are wrong, I think one of the issues may be that you are not _a_ complicated person…” She let the phrase hang there and sink in and then continued, “But _several_ persons… And _all of them_ are complicated… And there are some, that, however much I try, I will never get through to, I will never even access…”

She paused for breath, “I do not know how to explain this, and it may just be an impression, an intuition… But it is very frustrating… You are holding back…” She stroked his face, “I love you, I love you very much indeed, but there is something about you, something that doesn’t quite feel right…”

And now he began to understand, she was getting close to the bone to the heart, suddenly he felt even more tired. “And supposing, just for argument’s sake,” he reached up and by force of habit, pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen across her face, tucked it behind her ear, “that that were the case… What then, Ellana?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, Solas, I really don’t know…”

Half an hour later she was snoring quietly and he found himself still looking, sleepless, at the shadows and darkness on the ceiling.

“ _Fenedhis!_ ” he muttered out loud and then almost giggled, something he only tended to do when under a great deal of stress, when he realised that after all these centuries he had just sworn by his own dick…

Which gave him an idea…


	2. Arlathan

They were standing on a staircase, and she seemed to be gripping a balustrade as if her life depended on it, her fingers digging into the stone, her head almost hanging over it. She was incredibly dizzy, her stomach was lurching and she was certain she was going to be sick.

“Now, you must know that we are both very intoxicated…” He said calmly from behind her, his arms were around her shoulders steadying her.

“I think I’m going to throw up…” She said weakly, her pulse fluttered as she dry heaved.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said “it is just a momentary attack of vertigo… It will pass, but as I said, we are both very…”

“But I don’t recall…” She interrupted.

“Such tends to be the nature of intoxication.” He gave her a moment, “Now,” he said again, “We are on a staircase and we’re going up to my room…”

The staircase seemed to be made of marble. Fine white polished marble. With blue veins like a cheese she had once eaten in Orlais... She began to feel sick again. “Ugh…” She said clutching her stomach and straightening up, his arms moved around her waist so she didn’t topple over, “Where did you say…”

“On a staircase. On the way to my room.”

 “Do I…”

“Yes, yes you do. Very much so. We like each other very much… We are extremely compatible.” His voice was firm leaving no room for doubt, not even the slightest, smallest corner.

She looked straight at him and got the impression that she was seeing him, or a part of him, for the very first time. “Solas, what’s with the…”

“Fen,” he corrected her gently, “I am Fen here…”

“Fen,” she said feeling it on her tongue, it felt strangely wrong when applied to him but at the same time very right. There was a deeper meaning to that name, she was sure of it. He was smiling up at her, he had a beautiful smile, full or warmth. “Fen, why do you have red dreadlocks? They don’t really suit you…”

He actually laughed, “But you see, you’re wrong, your eyes must be deceiving you, Nehnera, I have no dreadlocks…”

She scrunched up her eyes and looked again and sure enough, he didn’t. Anymore. “What a relief,” she said, “you look so much better like this.” She reached down and placed a hand on the back of his warm naked skull, somehow she knew he liked that, that he liked it very much indeed. “What did you just call me?”

“Nehnera, you are Nehnera here. Do not forget that… It is a very sad elf who forgets her own name.… Or a very _intoxicated_ one.” He added, looking into her eyes and toying with one of the long silver earrings she was apparently wearing, he seemed to place a special emphasis on that word _intoxication_. “You also took part in a poetry recital earlier this evening…”

“A poetry…”

“Yes, a competition…” And now that he had mentioned it something tweaked almost irresistibly at edges of her memory…

“You do recall… that’s why you’re here… There was a competition… The competitors had to drink three shots of strongwine in three minutes and then recite three stanzas of poetry, by heart in front of the crowd without tripping up…”

And then it came to her the tang of alcohol in her mouth, the warmth in her blood and an extremely colourful but friendly crowd formed of extravagantly dressed and painted elves, no less drunk than her, probably more so, punching the air and chanting “ _Dirth! Dirth! Dirth! **[1]**_ ” As she rocked on the balls of her feet in front of them…

“I was the prize?” She asked, cautiously.

He laughed, “No, _I_ _was_ , I volunteered… I do hope you enjoy your evening with me.”

She thought about it for a while and then slapped her thigh, “Oh I know what this is about, I know what is going on here…” As she did so she noticed were several rings on her fingers including one of obsidian around her thumb.

Mystified she extended her arms in front of her, bracelets and bangles, rings of all colours and all textures, jade, silver, mother of pearl, cornelian, she was wearing them. She touched her neck only to discover one very wide collar and several looser necklaces. Shook her head, earrings fluttered. A rainbow of filmy skirts cascaded from her waist held in place by a belted, jewelled girdle and above her waist she appeared to be wearing little more than an elaborate embroidered silk bodice, clasped between her breasts, with white linen sleeves covering her shoulders and upper arms.

“Oh you do, do you? Please inform me.” He looked highly amused, there was an annoying smirk on his face.

“Fen… That name…” It flooded into her, she started jabbing a finger towards his chest. “You are a scoundrel, a wastrel, a ne’er do well, unreliable, all that… And you are attempting to seduce me.”

He seemed fascinated, “Now how would you know that?”

“Because everybody says so, Fen!” She waved her arms in the air and nearly overbalanced, he made a quick grab for her.

She landed hard on her bottom on one of the steps, her jewellery jangled “Ouch!”

He squatted down next to her “Careful now.” He did smell of alcohol, and sweet spicy perfume, fresh perspiration (the evening was balmy), smoke and something, _other_ things… She thought. It was not unpleasant.

As if he couldn’t help himself, he reached out and ran a finger over her lips. She blinked up at him, still not quite managing to see him as clearly as she would wish. He widened his grey, grey eyes that were looking directly into hers and raised his eyebrows suggestively. A wave of heat coursed through her.

And then he said expectantly, as if to help her focus. “You were saying?”

“Everybody, everybody around here, all the rumours they all say the same thing, he is not to be trusted, that Fen… Fen, Fen this, Fen that…” She had started off shouting but by the end she was mumbling.

She looked at him again. He grinned. Now she noticed that he appeared to be wearing heavy eyeliner and when he blinked there was dark blue glitter on his eyelids and even a smattering of golden glitter on his cheeks… And earrings, his left ear was pierced in several places and he wore a variety of rings through it. It was all very strange. She stroked the glitter on his face with a finger, as if to get it off, although it _did_ look good on him, she had to admit.

“Where is here? Ell… Nehnera? Tell me, where are we?” He asked her.

“Here is here,” she said with the drunk’s irrefutable logic. “Here is…”

“Here is…” He repeated, coaxing her, as if she were a child.

“Arlathan…” She said with conviction. “Here is Arlathan. We are in Arlathan. Of course…”

 

[1] "Speak! Speak! Speak!"


	3. High Summer

“Well done, Nehnera,” he said, “Well done, and that has earned you…” He gently kissed the tip of her nose, “Now let’s help you back on your feet.”

She got up but still feeling a little unstable, the shining whiteness of the staircase descended into shadows which seemed a very long way down. Although she could hear some noises coming from down there, raised, excited voices, giggling, a particularly raucous peal of laughter followed by what could have been a slap and more giggling. Fen seemed to follow her gaze.

“It would appear that my cook is entertaining the kitchen boys… She should be ashamed of herself, she’s at least ten years older than the oldest of them, if she is a day… However, she is a very good cook…” There was warmth in his voice, perhaps even admiration.

“You have a cook?” She asked.

“I have several cooks. Although this particular one is the best of them… Despite her proclivities, or perhaps _because_ of them, who knows?”

She lost interest in that subject and turned to him. “Perhaps you should carry me…”

“I could I suppose… But do you want me to?”

“Yes, I think so.”

He hefted her up into his arms

And it was then when he clasped her against him that she realised that most of his chest was bare. He was wearing a kind of open robe with elaborate heavily brocaded sleeves and collar, but there was no tunic under the robe which seemed to be fastened with a little golden chain at his neck and another looser one across his very tight stomach. His skin felt warm and so smooth. There were a few squiggly reddish hairs towards centre of his pectorals tapering downwards to nothing towards his stomach only to rally again around his navel and, she imagined, below. She began to trace them with her index finger…

He stopped and lowered his forehead to hers, he was breathing heavily but not from the exertion of carrying her.

“Nehnera, please, you are distracting me… We are nearly there.”

‘There’ was a stout embossed oak door, quite deftly, she thought Fen managed to lower the handle and push it open with his foot without allowing her to slip.

“Oh.”

He set her on her feet and closed the door behind them.

The large whitewashed, high ceilinged, airy room was flooded with candlelight. There were many shelves and cubbyholes along the walls and each of them seemed to contain a candle or various, towards the door to what she imagined was a terrace and by the bed there were several large great glass jars blue red and yellow upon the surface of which floated several tea lights. The room and the large emerald sheeted bed had been profusely scattered with rose and jasmine petals the room was heady with their perfume.

“It is late Justinian and we celebrate high summer… At dawn a spell is cast in the main square, a slow beautiful spell, on the city and all its inhabitants, no one works for the day following the casting and we are expected to celebrate, indulge …”

In the furthest corner Nehnera glimpsed a stand containing an array staves made from different materials. “And what does this spell do?” she murmured.

He put his arms around her and pulled her to him. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body and his arousal. He nuzzled her cheek and began toying with her hair pulling at it gently and wrapping it around his fingers. “As you can imagine, it lowers our inhibitions, it compels us to seek out happiness, and encourages us to find pleasure in others…”

“And is it still in effect?” She felt him smile against her cheek

He nodded, “Very much so, it will be alive within us until dawn. For a few hours yet.”

He placed a hand on her breast, the palm rubbing against her hardened nipple just under the silk. “Can you not feel it? Close your eyes, breathe deeply and concentrate and you will hear it thrum.”

He put his lips against hers, they were velvety smooth. They were silent for a while their tongues played gently but teasingly with each other. He broke the kiss his painted eyelids fluttering. “It is subtle and can be confused with a sense of euphoria and contentedness.”

“So is that why I feel lightheaded?”

“Quite probably…”

“I see…” She did as he suggested, after few seconds she began to sense the spell, it indeed thrummed, vibrating through time and space like a chord on a musical instrument that had been plucked just once, long ago, but still reverberated. He had moved behind her and she felt his erection against her rear. He began to unfasten her bodice.

She visualised the spell as a skein and then a complex, intricate, knot and in her mind’s eye bringing it closer, she saw it was formed of a multitude of filaments of diverse colours wrapped and threaded around each other, each different but each performing its part in reinforcing and strengthening the whole. He cupped her breasts kneading them softly and she felt his lips against her neck.

“Solas… _Fen_ …” She whispered.

“Come, Nehnera…” He led her the few steps to the bed.

She was now lying back on it and he was on top of her feeding her breasts to his mouth.

“Mythal is a spell weaver” he said quietly, as he loosened her skirt, “her gift is to take the magic of others and merge it to form a complete, viable whole,” he lowered her skirts, her underwear was barely a slip of silk cutting into her groin, he pulled it away with a tug and down to her ankles, over her feet.

“So beautiful…” He breathed and then his lips were there.


	4. The Mirror

Chapter 4

There was a mirror on the ceiling over the bed.

She started when she first saw it, concerned that perhaps it was an illusion. Her mouth opened to remark how decadent that was but then _his_ mouth down there did something to her that made her whole body quake and put an end to all though of coherent speech and instead she closed her eyes as her body stiffened and she clamped her lips tight to prevent herself from shouting out.

So following that she watched, watched his hands holding her thighs apart and his head moving between them, her hair spread over the cushions in disarray, the many necklaces glittering round her neck as her body shook, her own hands clasping her breasts, and then attempting to grasp him to tear him away from herself and finally clutching at the sheets as she convulsed and came with a scream...

 He got to his feet and looked down at her and particularly at her open sex. “There are few things more pleasing…”

“You bastard…” The word was out of her mouth before she had even engaged her brain and was somewhat contradicted by her actions as she did not close her legs and may even have tilted her hips towards him.

To her relief he chuckled. “I’ve been called much worse by less pretty things in my time… _Much_ less pretty things… ”

She realised he had made no comment whatsoever on the stretch marks, it was not possible that he would be unaware what they meant…

She watched him wander to a corner of the room, he moved so gracefully almost gliding, she could tell he was very pleased with himself just by the way he walked, where there was a small basin on a stand he extracted what was apparently a cotton washcloth from one of the dishes that did not contain candles and wiped his face. He bought another one over to her as she was sitting on the edge of the bed and she yelped as she held it against herself because it was cold. He sat next to her and when she began to wipe herself, reached down to ‘help’ her.

“Is it tender?” He asked as his long fingers move gently between her legs exploring every nook and cranny.

“Yes…” She said shivering against him.

“Good…” He said and leaning towards her, keeping his hand between her thighs but  wrapping his other arm around her shoulders and putting his forehead against hers, “because” he whispered in a low clear voice that gave her goosebumps, “I’m going to fuck it…”

She took a breath. “Bold claims but for the time being you have too many clothes on…”

“True enough,” he acknowledged “but easily addressed.” He detached the chains at the collar and waist of his robe and simply let it drop to the floor, he was then only clothed in loose linen culottes that were little more substantial than her skirts had been held in place by a wide belt matching the embroidery on the robe. And he wasn’t wearing so much as a silk slip. She reached for him. He blinked and smiled and allowed her to hold him but after a few moments moved her hand away. “Get on your knees.” He said in a low voice.

She did.

She couldn’t see much of significance now so she gathered several of the brightly coloured cushions together and leaned forward on them closing her eyes concentrating on sound and touch. The jangle of the beading on his belt as it was loosened and set aside, the rustle of the culottes being discarded the slight shift in the mattress as he redistributed his body weight. His hand running slowly up her spine until it reached the base of her neck holding her there very briefly and then releasing her. And then the sensations of prodding and careful probing first his fingers then his sex against hers, blunt and warm.

She heard him gasp quietly as he entered her but he did so very slowly in a controlled and deliberate manner, working himself into her only a fraction at a time. At one point steadying herself on her hands she thrust back towards him, to speed things up, but in response he withdrew as much as she had advanced, “ _Dar em_ [1], Fen.” She spat at him after a few minutes, “This is torture…” her body was braced for him, tense, ready to be filled. 

“No, no, I like it like this…” There was far more emotion in his voice than she would have anticipated.

Eventually he hit true and they both quietened breathing heavily and locked together as close as their physical bodies would allow. “You are beautiful…” He said and kissed her spine as her body vibrated around his and then she felt him shudder. He moved cautiously at first and then seemed to lose all decorum and segued to a livelier pace. Nehnera propped herself up on her elbows and tightened herself around him. “Oh,” and then a much deeper “Oh” followed by a pleasured grunt…

***

“I always come sooner than I would wish, there is a lesson there somewhere I suppose…”

“That you are young?” Nehnera suggested.

“Ha, flattery this late in the evening… Who would have thought? Although you did recite rather well…”

“It tends to be an issue for the young…” She insisted, “And the mirror… Watching yourself, such vanity… Probably does not help.”

He smiled. “I like the mirror… We look good in it…” He turned over so he was on his back and gazed up at it. She did likewise. He reached for her hand.

He was right.

They did look good, a study in contrast. He was pale and she was several shades darker, she had curves and he was all angles, between her legs lay darkness, his sex, however, was undeniable and surrounded by a puff of red hair.

The jewellery strewn about both their bodies sparkled and gleamed.

And they wore matching smiles.

 

[1] “Pierce me, Fen!”


	5. Dawn

Chapter 5

She was in small but beautifully tiled sluice room decorated in white, blue and gold mosaics standing in a tub while Fen sponged her down. He showed a commendable devotion to cleanliness which she wished some of her former lovers had shared.

Although, truth be told, this was their second attempt. He had begun to wash her a little earlier but halfway through doing so had become aroused, they had made eye contact, and … She could not be sure who kissed who first, although it was her who had pushed him against the wall. He seemed disturbed not at all by her taking the initiative, which was another question answered, and they ended up having quick, frantic sex right there and she came again.

“So what do you do exactly?”

He was squatting at her feet wringing the sponge. “I am a member of the governing council, a _Hah’ren_ , but the least of them, of course…” This last was merely a detached observation.

“Yes, but what does that involve?”

“Problem solving, mostly, operational, economic, administrative… some legal… Not too much of that.” He stood up and began to wipe down her legs. “Your skin is beautiful… Such a pretty shade of copper…” 

She reached out and stroked his cheek, he smiled and tilted his face towards her, he was not the sort of elf one would describe as handsome at first glance, his features were somewhat extreme, but his grey eyes, the way he moved, his expressions, his quiet stirring voice… The way he made love…

Nehnera had been thorough a lot before she reached Elvhen, she believed it had hardened her, she had not expected to feel such affection ever again or, at least, so soon… She kissed him briefly and gently and he responded in kind, it was sweet but not cloying, barely a lick of honey.

“I also teach. When time allows.”

“Teach?”

“Approaches to magic, mainly, and fade studies… Also, history, logic and rhetoric, ethics... and…” He paused while he wiped down her back. “Well this is probably pretty boring… ”

“No it’s not, it’s fascinating.” she paused to take it all in, when she thought about it she wasn’t surprised. “And… What, what was at last thing?” She said turning round to face him.

He grinned and looked away bashfully, “Sometimes… Sometimes _I_ cause the problems…”

“You cause them, but why?”

His voice was dry. “A society, a body politic needs the occasional challenge if it is to remain stable… That is how the theory goes, anyway.” He paused, wrung the sponge. “If I told you any more, I might have to make you forget it…” He bent down to replenish the sponge.

“You can do that?” She asked as he stood up again.

His lips twitched. She realised then that he had probably told her more than he intended to. “Yes I can. With some beings anyway.” He began to wipe her breasts, sloppily, not as precisely as before.

“Would that include me?”

He sighed and stopped sponging. Looked deep into her eyes. “Yes.” He replied quietly.

***

Apparently they had fallen asleep holding hands. He lay next to her belly down his face buried in the cushions, eyelids fluttering. She tried to extricate her fingers from his as carefully as possible, but nevertheless she caused him to stir. He woke up, glanced at her, smiled with satisfaction, turned on his back stretched and yawned… Then his smile faded “Oh… Dawn approaches.” He turned towards her, “my apologies I hate this moment... Feeling the spell fade, every year I fear will be the last it is ever cast…”  

“You enjoy being enthralled?”

He was sitting up, reaching for his robe, “I have never thought of it like that, my own magic forms part of the spellskein, but, yes, I suppose I do… But it is only temporary, finite, and it relieves me of some of my feelings of...”

He was now on his feet rummaging in a closet, “Here,” he said, flinging another robe in her direction we should watch dawn break.”

She shrugged into it and took the hand he extended to her and they both walked, barefoot like children, out to the terrace, it had baked in the sun all day and was still surprisingly warm. Nevertheless the air was chillier than she expected and she developed goosebumps over her shoulders despite the robe…

There were only a few faint stars speckled here and there and dark clouds still roiled over the sky, the city stood at their feet a mass of irregular rooftops and tiny lights “As it is above, so it is below…” she heard him murmur under his breath, the phrase seemed familiar and was surprisingly apt.

To the east however, there was a breach, a gash in the sky like a tear in a robe or a wound, full of light, yellow, orange and red, as if only there colour existed and the rest of the world were confined and restricted to greys and shadow, which in that moment suited her fine, because she was here, cold as she was, in darkness as she was, but not alone.

His hand tightened over hers, she could feel the spell now retreating its fey tendrils, like tiny cobwebs withdrawing from her eyes, her mind, her heart … there was grief, but there was still awareness, there was still Nehnera, Fen and Arlathan…

Then the first golden ray emerged from the breach and everything unravelled.


	6. Hiraeth

He waited for a few minutes, rocking back on his heels, as if allowing Ellana to take stock of the situation. She was clad in a simple nightgown, facing Solas who was in what Vivienne had called his hobo wear, whilst around them clustered the joyless, dusty mists of the veil. Behind him she was certain she caught glimpses of her room in Skyhold…

“You will have questions…” He said in that quiet voice of his.

“That was Arlathan…” her words sounded, slow, dull even to her own ears.

“Yes.”

“But not seen from here, from the Fade…”

“No. My direct memories. Fallible as they may be. And they _are_ fallible…”

“You were there?”

“As I said.”

She opened her arms. “So all this… ‘I saw it in the Fade…’ was… _is_ so much bullshit…”

“Not in every instance… but for the most part, yes.”

“Who exactly are you Solas?”

He sighed. “Are you not familiar with the name I gave you?” He shook his head at her. “I am almost disappointed… But never forget I am Solas… Also.”

Ellana felt her face get hot, “You have duped me, duped us all, treated us like fools!”

He didn’t reply immediately. She got the impression he was giving her space, allowing her anger to dissipate. As, invariably, it did.

“And what was I to do, Ellana? Approach Cassandra, introduce myself by saying… Oh, I don’t know… _‘I am a one thousand year old Elvhen deity, I’ve been asleep for a while, just woken up, that’s a pretty bad hole in the sky right over there… Allow me to assist you, human…’_ what would have been the outcome of _that_ , I wonder? One has to be subtle.”

He turned away from her, his shoulders began to shake, at first she thought he was crying then she realised he was giggling uncontrollably. Seemingly, against all her instincts compassion flooded through her. She went to him, and put her arms around him.

He shrugged them off. “More questions, Ellana, time runs short…” She thought his face was wet but she could not be sure, he wasn’t facing her.

“How did Arlathan fall?” she was surprised at the coolness in her voice.

“Now _that_ is a good question… There was a plague…” He’d wrapped his arms around himself she noticed a gesture she had never seen in him before, he’d always seemed so poised, so self-sufficient.

He raised his head. “No. That would be to exonerate us from all responsibility… Corruption, corruption leads to abuse, abuse leads to tyranny… To infamy, to cruelty… The public good no longer comes first, but second, third, then…” His voice dropped as if in shock. “Nowhere…” He continued. “So we ended it. You’ve heard the legends since you were a child. It went down _something_ like that. And, yes, there _was_ a plague… There is _always_ a plague, it seems.” He sounded so bitter.

“What happened to Nehnera?”

“She is gone, dust… It was centuries ago after all… We were together for many years… You remind me of her. Perhaps that it is why it was so easy for you to assume her identity for a while… Perhaps…” There was a vast wistfulness in his voice, hesitation. “Though she was not there when Arlathan fell… I made arrangements for a… _Friend_ … to remove her to a place of safety… She would not have left otherwise and I simply could not…” his voice trailed off. “I never saw her again.”

There was a silence between them for a few moments, then she said, “You are going to make me forget all of this, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I am deeply sorry.”

“Including some of the best sex I ever had…” He made a snorting sound which might have been supressed laughter. It was curious, this, how both of them seemed to be bouncing from one emotional extreme to the other, supposedly at loggerheads, but at the same time, queerly together. “So what was the point…?”

“The best sex is _always_ in the mind…” He said earnestly then paused. “But you know that… You will be left with a few impressions, mayhap some diffuse feelings… You may dream of this again. Perhaps you will be better disposed towards me…” He paused. “Forgive me. That last is entirely self-serving.”

“I was never, ill disposed towards you Solas, just annoyed, confused… This answers many of my questions… It is a pity you do not trust…”

He cut her off. “It is not a matter of trust. I trust you. I have trusted you with my life, Ellana, many times before today and you have not failed me, not once, but there is so much more at stake, things I cannot even begin to explain…” He sighed, “Believe me, _Vehnan_ , what I am, or may be, is the very least of what is afoot…”

“Do you dream of this, Solas? Do you dream of Arlathan?”

“Last question. Yes. Almost every night, I miss it far more than I reasonably should… Sometimes the cruellest fate is to survive our past.”

“Then I pity you.” And she found she did, from the bottom of her heart.

He reached out and touched her chin she moved his hand away very carefully. Suddenly she felt very clear-headed. “Do it now, Solas, do it now, banish the dream, make me forget, but _not_ with a kiss…”


	7. The hidden cache

Chapter 7

He woke up with an abrupt start, a consequence of being ejected from the fade. His first thought was that his emergency cache, a second rate staff, simple but warm clothing, a dark hooded wool cape, a backpack containing some coin, a few portions of dried meat and fruit and some potions, was about half a mile away under the loosened roots of an old yew tree.

He wondered whether it would not be prudent to get up now, to leave now… but the bed was warm and he was tired, magic was exertion too, physical, mental _and_ emotional, not many non-gifted seemed aware of that… and then there was Ellana.

_You are getting old, Fen, old, sentimental and incautious and one day, perhaps very soon, things are going to catch up with you…_

He turned over to look at Ellana only to have her, still asleep, reach out to him bury her head against his chest and nuzzle it. He couldn’t begin to describe the warmth that came over him as he wrapped his arms around her, the sweetest kind of arousal. Well, he wouldn’t be leaving this morning he thought as he stroked her hair…

She woke some ten minutes later while he was still holding her.

“I had a very strange dream…” she told him, looking up at him from the depth of their shared bedclothes with solemn brown eyes, “you were very sad…”

“Hmmm” he said.

“And for some reason I was extremely angry with you…”

He stroked her hair, “Well, we did have that discussion last night…” He suggested gently.

“We did, didn’t we?” She mused in a sleepy voice, “It seems stupid now… Irrelevant, silly…” She splayed her hand over his heart as if checking his heartbeat, “There were other things, too… I was… I wasn’t _me_ … but…”

“Dreams are like that…”

“And you were still you but also someone else…” She persisted. “And you weren’t quite so good in bed…”

He smiled. “Well I’m glad some things have improved…”

She straddled him again and he was just starting to relax, telling himself that everything was alright, when she reached up with both hands and felt his ears. He froze. Undeterred, she ran her fingers along the edges.

“Strange.” That cool voice of hers again. “There’s several little holes on your left ear as if you’ve had it pierced so many times… And none on your right…”

From so close up she must have seen the shocked expression on his face, _must have_ … He could have come up with some excuse, some clumsy explanation… But that would probably only make it worse.

She smiled at him “Solas…” She said very slowly, extending the ‘o’.

“Yes, Ellana?”

She closed her eyes and put her forehead against his, the smile still playing on her lips. He closed his eyes and stilled his breathing. “I love you very much.”

This was not bad, he told himself. _Not_ bad. “And I love you too, _Vehnan_.”

She stretched and yawned, their bodies rubbing up against each other in the most delightful, intimate way… “I’m hungry, would you mind awfully fetching breakfast while I start work? Those reports are not going to read themselves…”

Surprise. Relief. Admiration.

“Of course, Ellana.” He replied crisply.

_Well_ , he thought, as he closed her bedroom door behind him, on his way to the kitchen, _the cache is going to stay where it is…_ At least for the time being.

 

THE END


End file.
